Mike walks in front of me to part the sea of people as we make our way to the bar. I immediately know where Adam must be sitting because the crowd is much denser there.

“Adam’s over there,” Mike says with a nod in the direction I suspected. “I’m going to hit the bathroom. You cool on your own?”

“Yep. See ya later.”

I weave and squeeze my way between people as I make my way to the end of the bar. I walk until I can’t walk any farther—because I’ve reached a point where people are flat-out refusing to budge, giving me dirty looks for trying to force my way between them. I can see Adam, but there’s no way he’ll hear me from all the way over here. Michelle is still clinging to him, teetering on the edge of the stool next to him, practically tumbling face-first into his lap. There are people standing all around him, girls and guys alike. Frustrated, I stand there and huff.

“Need a little help?”

I look over my shoulder to see Joel. Thank freaking God. I turn around and smile up at him. “Hey.” He has his arm around a brunette, and a girl who looks like her twin sister is clinging to his other side.

“Hey ADAM!” Joel yells over my shoulder, and Adam finally looks up to see us. The crowd follows his line of vision and makes room for us as we walk over. There’s hardly anywhere to stand, but Adam pulls me in close, and I somehow find myself standing right between him and Michelle. My back is to her, and I know she must be seething.

Rowan: 1. Michelle: who the hell cares.

“Tequila shot?” Adam asks with a playful grin, and I look at the bar in front of him to see a few empty shot glasses already lined up.

“Looks like you’ve already had a few.”

“But none with you!” he says. “We need to celebrate!” When he tugs me onto his lap, I squeal and grab his shoulders for balance.

“You haven’t passed the test yet,” I tease.

Adam’s voice is subtly lower when he says, “What will I get when I do?”

Oh my.

I less-than-gracefully fumble off his lap. What was that about? And why is it so goddamn hot in here?

When the bartender takes our order, I ask for a White Russian and Adam orders two unsolicited shots. He either forgot about Michelle or he forgot about me, or maybe he didn’t order one for himself . . . Either way, this is going to be interesting.

“Where is everyone?” I ask. Joel has disappeared, and I have no idea where any of the other guys are.

“Most of the guys are on the dance floor. Shawn went to see about getting us a table, I think. Or to check out the DJ booth. Or, actually, he might be in the bathroom too, maybe . . . I think . . .”

I can’t help chuckling. “You have no idea, do you?”

When Adam shakes his head with a goofy grin on his face, I want to take his cheeks in my hands and kiss him. Or rub noses. Or . . . hell, I don’t know. Something equally ridiculous.

“Adam,” Michelle suddenly says from behind me, reminding me that she’s alive, “come dance with me?”

Adam shakes his head, and I’m not sure if I should count this as 2 for Team Rowan, but I’m going to anyway. “I’m not nearly drunk enough for that yet.”

When large hands land on my shoulders, making me jump, I look back to see Shawn’s big green eyes staring at me from under his messy black hair. He smiles and leaves his hands on my shoulders as he tells Adam, “I got us a table.”

Our drinks arrive with impeccable timing. I pick mine up and sip on it as we maneuver our way through the crowd to get to a back table where it’s a little quieter. The table is a massive corner booth. The seat is soft pink leather, and there’s a knee-high hot-pink circle table in the center. Mike, Joel, Joel’s twins, and an extra girl I saw flirting with Shawn back on the bus are already there. Shawn slides in next to her, followed by Michelle and Adam. I stay standing off to the side, wanting a quick exit strategy in case Adam and Michelle decide to start sucking face, like God knows he’s prone to doing. Adam tries to tug me in next to him, but I take his hand in mine and lower it back down. “I’m good,” I say.

He frowns up at me, but I smile to reassure him. I don’t want to ruin his last night on the road.

Ugh, the thought almost makes me teary-eyed. Is that why I’ve been feeling so crazy? Tonight is the last night I’ll have with him and the guys. After tonight, it’s back to my boring, depressing, Adamless life. Adamless and Shawnless and Mikeless. Joelless and Driverless. Hell, even Codyless.

Adam hands me one of the two shots he carried over, and I shake my head.

“Just take it,” he says. “No hidden attachments.”

“Can I have a lime and the salt?” I ask.

Adam hands it over, watching me curiously. Interested in seeing what a tequila shot tastes like when it’s taken the way it’s supposed to be, I lick the back of my hand, sprinkle some salt over top, lick it off, down the shot, and bite into the lime. I wipe my chin with the back of my clean hand and grin at the dazed look Adam is giving me.

“Thanks,” I finally say.

His tongue flicks out to trace his bottom lip, and I have to look anywhere else. This place really needs air-conditioning, and a better ventilation system, and . . . air to ventilate.

“So Rowan,” Michelle says, and I suck in a silent breath, welcoming the distraction. “How is Brady?”

Chapter Eighteen

THE TRUMPETS THAT should have accompanied the end of my world never sounded. I’m caught completely unprepared, staring at Michelle with shock stamped onto my face. I quickly mask my expression and hope no one else caught it, because my answer comes out sounding miraculously unfazed and flawless.